Broken
by PossibleIdeasAreLimitless
Summary: Castle's angry, wounded, and embarrassed. Kate's confused, hurt, and still healing. Can they overcome their pride and uncertainty to delve into a relationship they both desire and yet refuse to acknowledge? During "47 Seconds" through "Headhunters"/Pre-"Always". Rated T for mild language.
1. Castle

Set during "47 Seconds" and continued through "Headhunters". Pre-"Always".

These lines of events are vastly overdone, but here is my version anyway. Hope you enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own _Castle_. Obviously.

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**Broken  
**_Part One: Castle_

There was no amnesia to hinder her memory. The traumatic event of her shooting left her broken, but it didn't take with it her account of the day. She remembered _every second_.

Her words tore into him, ripping their way through without abandon as they thrashed around inside him. The burning trail of their path left a hole within his chest– much like the bullet did to her those seven months ago. The only difference was that his wound was internal, a bleeding heart that no one could see, and he would make sure to keep it that way – unseen by any who would look too close.

The devastating loss was quickly overtaken by anger. A deep, boiling rage threatened to consume him, and he trembled with the effort to control it. He couldn't stay in the precinct, couldn't face her knowing what he now knew. He gave a quick excuse to Espo and left without a backward glance. Too restless for a cab, he decided to let his feet take him wherever they chose. It helped a bit to feel the slap of hard pavement underneath the rage of his march, as though he was beating out his anger through each stomp. His thoughts were a jumbled, painful mess, and the walk was a nice distraction, but his frustrations required a more vocal outlet before they devoured him whole.

He needed to talk to someone, someone who would give him the advice he needed whether he asked for it or not, someone who knew everything about his relationship with Beckett – he needed his mother.

He found her at home, and with one look in her direction she was by his side, knowing there was something wrong. He asked her to come with him somewhere, somewhere he needed to be, and he would explain everything. She commented on the morbidity of his needing to be at a bombing memorial, and he agreed, but he also reasoned that the atmosphere was similar to his mood and therefore necessary. She rolled her eyes at his dramatic behavior, telling him that Beckett wasn't dead.

No, but she might as well be. She betrayed his trust, his loyalty.

She had lied to him. But _why_?

At that moment he realized: She had to have been embarrassed for him, _by_ him. By his declaration of feelings that were obviously deeper than what she could return. What a fool he had been, waiting for something that would never be and probably never had a chance in developing. He'd wasted four years pursuing a woman who only thought of him as her partner and nothing more. She could have at least given him the decency of letting him know she wasn't interested, instead of stringing him along like a lost puppy, destined to forever chase after the unattainable if not for his accidental discovery.

Why didn't he see the signs before? She pushed him away so many times, and he just kept coming right back, eager and more determined than the last – a twisted form of masochism that was always more pain than pleasure. He really thought they had something between them, or at least that something more could grow.

That day on the swings so many months ago came flashing back, bringing with it the hope and longing of beginning a real relationship with her. Was he really so infatuated that he only assumed she was talking about him? Was it only his overactive imagination that invested more into her friendly and warm behavior toward him, her effortless smiles and those lingering touches than was really there?

They cared about each other. They were partners – best friends even. And yet, perhaps that was all they were ever going to be.

Why else would she have kept his proclamation of love secret for so long?

Well, she wouldn't have to worry about guarding her secret anymore. Kate Beckett was fairly adept at putting up walls, but now it was his turn to start building his own defenses against the beguiling detective. He was going back to finish the bombing case, and he was going to prove his mother wrong – emotions could be controlled.

However, he soon discovered that his intentions to remain impartial proved more difficult than he thought. He didn't seem to have any control whatsoever over the anger that laced within his words and expressions. He caught himself glaring in her direction on several occasions and found himself struggling to contain the hardness in his voice, even within his short, clipped sentences.

Then again, perhaps by only allowing those emotions to show through, maybe no one would notice how much pain was pulsing right along with every irregular beat of his broken heart…

After the case was finally over, the three detectives and he were standing around Beckett's desk discussing their plans for the night, and Beckett had asked if they all wanted to get a drink. When the boys declined her offer, she turned to him with one of her shy smiles and he knew he couldn't survive the night with just the two of them. So he did what he didn't ever remember doing once in the entire four years of knowing the detective: He turned her offer down and then walked away.

He needed to just get out of the city. Some place where nothing reminded him of her—

_Vegas_.

It was exactly what he needed. Honestly he didn't remember much of his trip. There were flashes of all different types of bars, casinos and women, but the images that most often played through were the bottoms of glasses – highball glasses, martini glasses, lowball glasses, Collins glasses, any kind of glass one could name, he saw the bottoms – especially shot glasses. _Lots_ of shot glasses.

Sooner than expected, he began to fall back into his playboy ways, finding it oddly cathartic and a much easier method in attempting to forget his deep attachment toward Beckett. He even found a new seductive friend on the flight home to help with his sexual frustrations. The blonde was fun, flirtatious and completely straightforward with what she expected a relationship with him would entail.

Yet he still couldn't fill the emptiness within him.

He was broken.

And he knew the only person who could mend him was the only person who refused to acknowledge anything was wrong.

Well, okay, she did ask once or twice, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much her betrayal had hurt him. She would probably laugh in his face, anyway, and he was tired of playing her games. Especially now that he knew he was playing for nothing.

He refused to let himself feel anything when she allowed the good-looking, British Inspector onto their new case, or when Captain Gates welcomed Det. Inspector Hunt with open arms. Castle himself suggested that the Det. Inspector sit in with Beckett during the interrogation of the female rapper. Interrogations were his and Beckett's thing, but he figured that it was just another thread that needed to be removed from the intricate design he managed to weave into her life. Instead, he focused his attentions on his exuberant flight attendant, Jacinda.

He knew he was being callous, flaunting his new relationship with Jacinda in front of Beckett, but he didn't do so to make her jealous. After all, how could one be jealous of someone over whom she didn't have any real feelings? He did so because he wanted to show her that his attachment to her was no longer an issue, and that their partnership was just a business affiliation and nothing more – just as she wanted.

His plan of narrowing his focus strictly to the case was working quite well. Not only did he bottle his resentment and anger toward her, but he also bottled every other emotion besides his childish nature and the barest of civility.

And yet, as much as he wanted to forget how much she could twist his emotions, he didn't have a choice when she walked toward them in that strapless, black gown. His heart thumped madly, raising the heat in his veins and rendering him speechless. All he could do was stare with his mouth slightly open. She smiled almost shyly in his direction, and he had to catch his breath. The moment she and the Det. Inspector left, he felt himself begin to take control over his body again.

This had to stop. He _must_ figure out a way to master his feelings toward her. She had to know how she affected him and still she exuded her feminine lures toward his powerless consciousness.

Perhaps he needed to distance himself from her even more than he had been.

After closing the case, Castle began to avoid the precinct more and more, only coming in when absolutely necessary – meaning only when another body dropped – and since Beckett and her team were immersed in pulling together evidence for a trial, Castle found his free time in abundance. Unfortunately this also meant that he became increasingly bored as the hours passed by. He couldn't even spend his days writing anymore, because Nikki seemed like a stranger to him now, just as Beckett did. Instead, he checked his facebook, then his email, tweeted, played random games on his iPhone, searched for nothing in particular with several search engines, watched random videos on youtube and Netflix, played his xbox, flew his helicopter around his office, all the while falling deeper and deeper into a dismal languor. What was he to do now that his muse no longer gave him the inspiration he required?

He supposed he _could_ look into different ways to resurrect Derek Storm, but that seemed like an awful lot of effort. It would definitely be his back-up plan once Plan A fell through, though . . . as soon as he thought of a Plan A.

Then, by chance, he saw the headline of the newscast on the television when he was making excuses to his mother about his writing: _Severed Heads Found_.

What a great story that would make!

He quickly turned up the volume just in time to catch the newswoman clarifying that a Detective Slaughter was on the case and then watched as the aggressive detective threatened the cameraman. Forget the severed heads – Detective Slaughter was now his source of inspiration. A badass gang detective with his own set of rules would make for an excellent central character for a mystery novel!

His mother tried to deter him with some comment about his already having a muse, but really, what good was a muse if she wasn't doing her job?

So, after dodging an irritated look from his mother, he grabbed his jacket and made his way to the coffee shop. The thought of what bringing Beckett coffee used to mean for him brought a slight twinge in his heart, but he soon berated his body for the reaction and convinced himself that _this_ coffee was merely a form of bribery and nothing else. If he focused on the case, he couldn't focus on how she still made him feel.

When he arrived, however, the bright smile she gave him and the light in her eyes had his pulse racing.

_Severed heads, Detective Slaughter. Stay focused, Castle_.

When he asked where he could find the gang detective, she seemed… disappointed. But honestly, she should have expected that this sort of story would draw him. He _did_ always like the strange cases. What was her problem, anyway?

She gave him a clipped answer of where to find Slaughter and turned her back on him. He merely shrugged his shoulders at her behavior and left her to… whatever she was doing. He really couldn't be bothered with her weird behavior at the moment; he had a date at the morgue, after all.

Detective Slaughter was exactly the type of 'rough-and-tough' protagonist he had in mind. He wasn't thrilled that it cost him one of his favorite jackets and a favor from the mayor just to shadow him for one case, but the characterization he was forming in his mind's eye for the detective was proving to be worth it. And who knows, maybe the one case could turn into several more afterward.

The streets had a tougher and more dangerous feel to them than Beckett's homicides. Even breaking the news of a loved one was different, more blunt and with a lack of emotion. He was actually reprimanded by the father of the victim for showing sympathy for his loss. What drew him to Beckett was her concern for the victims, giving them a voice when they no longer had one. He soon found that Slaughter's attitude toward the victims was that they only posed as an excuse to rough-up potential and/or convicted criminals to give him information, no matter the cost.

The first time Slaughter risked Castle's life, Castle felt empowered to be included in the take-down rather than having to stand back and let Beckett and her team lead. They did all they could to keep him out of danger, but Slaughter kept him in the action, not really caring whether he was injured in the process. The 'run-and-gun' police work definitely carried a more exciting appeal. And he could definitely take care of himself. Beckett's concern was unwarranted.

The second time, however, shook him up a lot more than he cared to admit. Well, _out loud_, anyway. He was ever grateful for Ryan and Esposito having his back when he didn't really deserve it. Perhaps shadowing Slaughter wasn't such a great idea after all, especially after his comment about his intentional advances towards Castle's daughter. Hopefully the punch Castle delivered to his face was enough of a warning to deter him. He'd have to warn Alexis about the detective when he got the chance.

Slaughter also had a very unconventional way of interrogating suspects. Almost crushing one in the back of a garbage truck and roughly spinning one around in the trunk of his vehicle was not the kind of character Castle wanted to write. No wonder he perked up at the mention of Castle having ties with the mayor. He needed someone with impressive credentials to inform the review board that his "excessive force complaints" were exaggerations. His friend was definitely not going to like blatantly lying in front of a board of people who were probably still watching him closely after his arrest for murder, even if he was falsely accused.

But the final part that demolished the already crumbling characterization of Castle's newest protagonist was Slaughter's help in falsifying an interrogation. Castle wasn't going to stand for that. Beckett's team and he always put justice for the victims as first priority, but all Slaughter seemed to care about was putting as many criminals as he could behind bars – whether they did the crime or not. Yes, this Vales guy was dangerous and Castle would feel safer with him behind bars, but Vales was also innocent for Glitch's murder. The real killer would get away, and then because of probable cause, Vales would walk, too. It was a no-win situation.

He needed Beckett. She would put this mess right.

It took a bit of pleading and blatant manipulation to persuade her to help him, but he soon realized that she was looking out for him the entire time. His heart swelled as her shy smile let him know that she was still his partner, even if he wasn't acting like one lately.

Once Beckett joined the case, it was easier to realize exactly what had happened that night under the overpass, and the real killer, the victim's own father, was convicted. Slaughter was extremely sore about having to let go of Vales, but Castle could tell that he was satisfied for claiming justice for his case. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad guy, after all – until his brick of a fist found a place in Castle's gut. He'd definitely feel that for a couple days.

He learned his lesson, though. Not only did this entire escapade cost him his jacket and a favor from Mayor Weldon; front row Knicks tickets for Espo; his Ferrari for a weekend for Ryan and a blind date with one of Jenny's friends; another rift in his already unstable relationship with Beckett; but he was also forbidden by Slaughter to write anyone even remotely resembling the gang detective within his novels. It was all a complete bust.

Well, maybe not _completely_.

Perhaps he _had_ imagined that Beckett's feelings for him were stronger than in reality, but she _did_ prove that she had his back, even when he didn't expect it, or deserve it. He didn't blame her irritation for his thanking her, either. Of course she was pissed. He would have been, too, if their roles were reversed.

But the fact was that his feelings for her were just too much for him to bear seeing and working with her every day. His heart couldn't take much more of her constant dismissal for his affections. They had a great partnership, but he wanted more.

His words from the conversation he had with Alexis echoed back to him as he lay in the darkness of his bedroom. He knew the gravity of his feelings for Beckett, and they were strong enough to finally push past the hurt he felt from her omission of the truth, but were they _too_ strong to allow him to properly focus on cases without being a nuisance? After all, it was justice for the victims and their families that was always first priority. For the last four years, it was exactly what he did, but he had thought that at some point those feelings would be returned, and now that he knew they weren't (and possibly were never going to be), was it worth staying?

No. No, it wasn't.

His conclusion left an empty hole in his chest, but really it was the best decision for him. And her.

So when she called about a body drop a few days later, he readied himself for his very last case with Detective Kate Beckett.

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Thanks for reading! I'm in the process of writing Kate's version of these episodes if any of you are interested, but as there are already so many of those stories posted, I wasn't actually planning on adding it unless specifically asked. I really only wanted to write Castle's point of view, since I felt there weren't enough of them. I only hope I did him justice. I do actually feel closer to Kate, so Castle is a bit tricky for me.

Anyway, reviews would be nice. :)


	2. Kate

Written for the unanimous votes I received in wanting to read Kate's POV, even though I still think there is already a fair amount of hers posted (and some of them are probably better than what I've produced, but I hope you enjoy it anyway). :)

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**Broken**  
_Part Two: Kate_

He was different. She didn't understand why or what she did to bring about his anger, but he was definitely angry. And for some reason it was directed solely at her.

She could tell that the bombing case had affected him, but she had assumed that it was in a more promising way than how it ended. When he sat her down to talk just after the primary questioning of witnesses, it seemed as though his conversation about not wanting to live out his life with any more missed opportunities was about them. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, and she found herself hoping that he would lead them into something more than what they had; yet at the same time, she dreaded the start of something that could eventually bring about their end.

But then Ryan had interrupted him and he quickly dropped the subject, promising to continue it after the case.

However, once the case was wrapped and she asked him what he was going to say earlier, he brushed off her question, telling her that it wasn't as important as he thought. She watched him leave, confused and utterly mystified at what had suddenly changed between them. It was even before the case ended that he began to act differently. His expressions were stoic and sometimes so fierce that he actually frightened her. The tone in his voice matched his demeanor, sounding hardened and even callous. What had happened?

Her breath suddenly caught in her chest as she came upon an obvious supposition – what if the subject of his speech from earlier was to tell her that he no longer wanted to wait? Maybe he was tired of holding onto something that he didn't think was going anywhere anytime soon and was angry at her for taking too long. He was giving up.

The thought had caused a panicked thumping of her heart to pulse painfully throughout her body; her breathing was too shallow. No! She couldn't allow that to happen! She fisted her shirt at her chest and forced herself to calm down.

She was _so_ close; she could _feel_ it. She wanted him to wait, _needed_ him to wait. Couldn't he see how much more open she was becoming? Couldn't he recognize the easiness of her countenance, the regularity of her smiles, the leniency of her brief yet meaningful touches? Could he really not understand what she was trying to convey to him without actually saying the words? How else could she express her feelings without giving away more than she was able? She cared for him – immensely – but she just wasn't yet ready to replicate his words of love.

And Lanie was absolutely no help.

Well, okay, she helped a little. By revealing that she could plainly see Kate's feelings for Castle, she pushed Kate into finally admitting it aloud. But pushing for her to actually admit them _to him_ was much easier for Lanie to say than it was for Kate.

Was she finally ready to take the next step?

She couldn't help the tumbling warmth in her belly when Lanie mentioned noticing that Castle was waiting _for her_. Yet the over powering dread of it not working out pressed heavily on her chest and forced the warmth back into a low hum. She had seen what happened between Lanie and Javi; she just couldn't stand to lose him.

Maybe it was as Lanie said, though: At least she and Javi gave it a shot. And who knows? Maybe it would actually work out between her and Castle.

At the crime scene, she all but made up her mind to finally tell him. Her heart was beating fast; tiny butterflies fluttered around in her stomach.

And then the roar of his Ferrari and a giggling blonde beside him squeezed her heart still and squashed each and every one of those butterflies.

Vegas? Really? And a blonde bimbo, too? He barely met the woman and already she was driving around his Ferrari like she owned the thing? What the Hell, Castle?

She shoved the thoughts aside and focused on the case instead. She would have to worry about his sanity later. Another victim deserved her full attention.

The case started out slow, even with knowing the victim's identity. She and her team waded through the amounts of seemingly useless information that surfaced and came up empty.

Finally they got a hit on the suspect leaving the crime scene – and Detective Inspector Colin Hunt from Scotland Yard entered the picture. Yes, he may have been extremely good-looking (and that sexy accent was a plus), and yes, she may have felt sympathy for his loss, but practically blackmailing her to be brought onto the case pissed her off a bit. Then again, she did know what it felt like to have no jurisdiction in a city where she needed answers – L.A. was still fresh in her mind, and if her actions were any consolation for what the Det. Inspector was hinting at doing, then she didn't see a reason not to allow him his request. Plus, after speaking with Captain Gates and hearing from his supervisor how much his services were valued at Scotland Yard, it may have pushed him a little further into her good graces, but only barely. He would still have to prove himself useful, starting with the supposed message the victim left for him to find.

What really irked her, though, at the risk of sounding conceited, was that she expected a bit of jealousy from Castle. After all, when any attractive male was ever involved during their investigations, he always seemed overprotective of her, as though he had claim. And yet the only jealousy she noticed from him was when Captain Gates welcomed Inspector Hunt without any hesitation.

When he nonchalantly suggested that Inspector Hunt sit in on the interrogation with the female rapper, she didn't anticipate how much it would hurt. He usually hated when he wasn't included in the interrogations, and especially when someone else – such as a sexy Inspector – took his spot. Yet instead, he left with that blonde from earlier, giggling right along with her and without a backwards glance. The sudden feeling of rejection pulled at her heart and left her confused and disconcerted.

Maybe she really was too late.

Too late or not, she did find a certain satisfaction when Castle couldn't take his eyes off of her when she walked into the precinct wearing her black gown for the party at the British Consulate. She smiled shyly in the boys' direction and noted that Castle's jaw was left hanging. At least she knew she could still render him speechless with only a dress for ammunition.

She tried to enjoy herself at the party with the Det. Inspector, but her thoughts kept returning to Castle, wondering how it would be like dancing with him, instead, and what sort of theories he would whisper in her ear as he twirled her around the floor.

She made sure to stay involved with the light conversation, but in the end, the night was just another job. And apparently a waste of time, because the prints of their number one suspect wasn't a match to the partial pulled off from their vic. Back to square one.

As Inspector Hunt and her boys stood around the murder board, Castle waltzed up waving expensive leftovers from his date and excessively elaborating about the most trivial details. Not only was she growing more and more annoyed by his antics, but she was also realizing that he honestly didn't seem to care how this was affecting her. He was usually more attentive to her feelings, yet he persisted on parading his new relationship around her without any regard.

He then mentioned quite offhandedly (and a bit smugly, making her want to smack him) that the blonde he'd taken to lunch solved the mystery of the code their victim left behind. She couldn't believe he shared information of an active case to that blonde stewardess of his. What was he thinking?!

Well, obviously he wasn't. He really didn't seem to understand why she was so angry about it either. He even had the nerve to look naïve when she reprimanded him for it.

She really thought he'd transformed from the selfish, womanizing playboy she met four years ago into a relatively decent cop, albeit unofficially, but his recent behavior suggested regression. Why?!

What had changed? Was it something she did? And why couldn't he just tell her what was wrong?

Right. Because talking about everything that happened between them was something they did all the time. _And whose fault was that, Kate?_ she asked herself with a roll of her eyes. No wonder relationships for her were so difficult. Honestly, though, she felt as though it could be different with Castle. He _had_ changed in the recent years she'd known him. He was more patient with her, wasn't as irritating to be around, seemed to know when not to push too much, gave her space to heal. She believed that they really could develop into something more than any of her previous relationships.

So what went wrong?

He loved her . . . or so she thought, but now it felt as though he was pulling away. She needed to know that what he felt for her would last, not only through her healing process, but forever. She wanted him to wait for her. For _them_. Didn't he realize that when they conversed on the swings? Or was that too long ago for him to remember?

What was she to do?

The way her body responded to him took much more control to keep in check than he probably thought. It almost annoyed her how her pulse always spiked erratically whenever she saw him after a few short hours or a long weekend without him; how her stomach fluttered warmly when he gave her that damn cute smile of his; how only one heated look from those dark blue eyes ravaged her and left her breathless without him ever needing to physically touch her. She longed to give in to her sudden urges to kiss him when they were theorizing together, their lips mere inches apart, their eyes bright with excitement; or run her fingers through his sandy hair to finally know if it was as soft as it appeared; or even reach out to firmly grasp the strong hands that have repeatedly saved her in more ways than he realized.

And yet her mind would always catch her in just enough time to retract the incriminating urges, because the ever present and heart-wrenching question kept resurfacing every time she let herself imagine taking their friendship one step further: What if it doesn't work out and she loses him forever?

It wouldn't be the same as it was with her mother. Johanna was unjustly taken from her – never to return in physical form; but if she lost Castle over something as trivial as an unsuccessful relationship, he would still be alive and well, writing a different set of books that involved a new muse, and roaming around New York with the impending chance of that awkward meeting in a store or restaurant.

She wanted to be absolutely certain Castle and she would make it; though, honestly, she had no possible way of knowing. Was her fear of even _trying_ keeping her away from a life she could finally be absolutely happy?

But then again, once she did give in, would he lose interest in her when the chase was over? Would he consider the mystery surrounding her solved within a few short weeks? Was she really going to take that chance, especially when he was beginning to drift further and further away?

She wanted to ask him what was going on with him. For the second time, _she_ was the one who initiated a need to talk, and for the second time, he completely brushed her off. It hit her hard, leaving her winded. She watched his retreating back all the way to the elevator and caught his stoic grimace as the doors slid closed.

Hurt and angry, she picked up her phone to accept Colin's previous offer, knowing exactly what "drinks" would entail. The night, however, didn't end as she originally thought. She would admit that Colin did have a _really_ nice body, and she wasn't going to deny the fleeting thoughts of intimacy that flashed across her mind. It _had_ been awhile, after all. But though the thought of sex with the gorgeous Det. Inspector was very appealing, it wasn't what she wanted. She was allowing herself time so she could have something more with someone whom she felt she could have a real future, and she had to admit that she was still holding out hope for Castle.

She just hoped she wasn't taking too long. The blonde turned out to be a passing fling, but he was still acting as though he was pulling away, and she knew she couldn't bear it if he was no longer in this with her. Her heart could only allow so much before it broke indefinitely, and his increasing distance from the precinct wasn't helping.

Neither was the sudden lull in homicides. It left too much room for lots of paperwork and preparation for a trial that was soon approaching, which meant that she was immersed in legal proceedings instead of any new cases.

The trial was draining her. She would much rather be out on the streets. The stress of gathering everything they had in evidence and securing it for transport to the courthouse, _along_ with the pressure Gates was leaning heavily upon her and her team to make sure nothing went wrong, was taking its toll.

Castle wasn't anywhere to be found, of course. She knew he was never one for paperwork, and the thought of him being there for this sort of tedious labor was absurd to even cross her mind, but she missed him, the _real_ him, and he would have made the whole process a bit more bearable. So when he walked into the precinct in his usual swagger, carrying not one coffee as he had for the past weeks, but _two_ coffees in his hands, she couldn't help the elation of seeing him surge through her. She greeted him with a huge grin, trying to portray to him how much his presence meant.

Then the real reason for his sudden return surfaced, and her craving for both him and the coffee dissipated. She put the untouched cup on her desk and walked away, only giving him the barest of the information he wanted.

A new partner. That was what he was searching for now. She wasn't ready for the heavy blow to her chest when he asked where he could find Det. Slaughter. Why, if it had to be anyone else besides her, did it have to be the one person who would get him killed within a week – Hell, within a day?

Det. Slaughter had a horrible reputation for losing partners, always leading them into danger and rarely pulling them back out of it. Her concern for Castle welled inside of her to an alarming degree, but she managed to keep it inside. Yet for all her composure in front of her boys and everyone else, she held nothing back for Dr. Burke.

There was just something about his calming disposition and willingness to not only hear, but _listen_ to her that compelled her to divulge her entire life to him – a stranger, really. She knew nothing about him except for his credentials and the way he seemed to just know the right thing to say to help her figure out how to either move past her walls or break them down. And that was enough to let herself completely trust him.

He listened to her rant about Castle's regressive behavior, using him as a backboard to bounce off her theories as to why he might be doing so. When she mentioned Castle running off with another cop, his question of the other cop being a woman threw her off guard. Why on earth would he ask such an absurd question? Was she showing jealousy over Slaughter as she would one of Castle's passing flings?

She guessed, in a way, it was exactly what this was, and she hoped that his fascination with the gang detective would pass as quickly as it had surfaced.

But then again, did she really expect to be Castle's muse forever? Did she really want the rest of his career to be based on Nikki Heat books?

No, but she didn't want him to put his life in danger, either, chasing after a cop who didn't care about him enough to protect him like she and her team did – and still would if or when he needed the help.

Then Dr. Burke suddenly mentioned her shooting and the three little, yet immensely powerful, words Castle had spoken. It brought her up quick.

Seven months. Seven entire months had passed by without any recognition on her part that he had said them. But she wasn't ready to hear them then, and that was exactly what she told Dr. Burke.

He countered, of course, with a question that forced her to consider everything. Perhaps it was Castle this time who wasn't ready.

The expression on her therapist basically confirmed her theory, and she felt all the worked up adrenaline ranting around his office rapidly escape, leaving her feeling deflated and hollow. What if he was finally tired of waiting?

But she wasn't purposely making him wait. As Dr. Burke said, she was healing, and healing takes time.

So the question now was: How was she going to convince him to wait for her just a little longer?

After she came back from Dr. Burke's, her head swimming with chaotic thoughts and possibilities, she noticed even through all of her drama that something was off with the way Castle was now regarding his "new partner".

Kevin was especially upset by Castle's sudden fascination of the gang detective, saying that he felt Castle was "cheating" on them. She couldn't help but smile at how adorable Kevin was sometimes. His loyalty was unwavering, and she knew he couldn't fathom straying from her or Javi for even a second.

Javi, on the other hand, was pissed at Castle's behavior, yet mostly for her sake, and his concern for him only derived from her, as well. She knew that she only needed to give the word and her boys would drag him back, kicking and screaming. But that wasn't at all how she wanted him to return to her. If he was determined to leave, there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, was it? And Javi called her on it, too.

She had to wonder if Castle would act any differently if she could only work past her fears and finally voice her feelings for him, maybe ask him to stay.

She was still broken, and she didn't want to bring a new relationship into the chaotic mess that was her life right now. She still had a few things she wanted to work through, but maybe there was a way she could prove to him that she still had his back, even if he wasn't showing her the same courtesy.

So she and her boys looked into Slaughter's case and found a traffic cam photo that would unravel the case within the first hour of a trial, but it wasn't enough to change Slaughter's mind about arresting Vales. They would have to gather more evidence.

But Castle would also have to come to her for the photo. She could lose her job interfering with Slaughter's investigation; they had strict rules about that.

She didn't have to wait long before Castle was practically begging for her to help him set things right with the case. He even went as far as to try and manipulate her into helping, but she soon revealed to him the folder that had the traffic cam photo. The way his expression softened as he realized she had his back was almost worth the risk of losing her job. Almost. His eyes gazed up at her with the adoration she had missed over the past few weeks and allowed her to hope that perhaps it wasn't too late.

Then they set about gathering the proof needed to catch Glitch's murderer. Of course, Slaughter caught them in the process and wasn't too happy about what they were doing, which was to be expected. However, she wasn't going to let his temper deter her from letting the real killer get away with murder just because Slaughter wanted to send Vales to prison instead. She agreed that a person like Vales didn't need to be in her city, but he _was_ innocent of the crime of which he was being accused – _this_ time, anyway – and it wasn't the justice Glitch deserved.

So with an hour deadline, they wrapped up Slaughter's case for him – with the real killer – and presented their findings to him. He was reluctant to give up Vales, but he did the right thing in the end.

Nevertheless, she decided he was still an ass.

She turned around from threatening Vales just in time to watch Slaughter gut punch Castle and couldn't help the grimace from surfacing upon her face, yet she also felt a bit of satisfaction in watching the writer double-over. She just wished that _she_ was the one who punched him instead.

Her irritation for his gratitude seeped into her response. If he had acted like the partner he was supposed to be in the first place, they never would have even been in that sort of situation. Perhaps he was further adrift from her than she thought.

Did he really not see how his insensitive actions were viciously battering against her already fragile heart? If she wasn't careful, she would soon have to begin building her wall again, if only to keep him from tearing out everything she was growing to become.

As she walked away from him, she couldn't help but think that their time together was quickly diminishing. She loved solving cases with him and he usually wasn't so bad to have around, but if he chose to continue down this path, there was only so much that she was emotionally able to reveal to get him to stay.

And if he wasn't willing to listen, how could she possibly make him understand?

* * *

So did anyone else catch the amused smile on Dr. Burke when Kate was ranting about Castle in his office? I thought it was hilarious. He could plainly see (just as everyone else can) how much she cares for Castle and yet she refuses to acknowledge it to herself (for these episodes, anyway. We all know how the season ends now… or at least we all _should_ know. Is there honestly anyone out there who _hasn't_ seen _Always_? Rhetorical question, by the way).

Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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